


Strong Enough to Bend

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Series: Comics Kink Bingo Fics [9]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Collars, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wintergreen takes them down a new path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strong Enough to Bend

The younger man looked dubiously at the plain, simple leather collar laying on the table in front of them. That the black leather had once been a military service belt, now reworked to fit a person's neck, was not lost on him. He then looked back up at the elder man, waiting. He could not help the tension running through his veins; it had been a hellish three weeks of almost continuous shelling before they'd gotten to drop back into Seoul.

Both of them needed the respite they had already found with one another, but he just wasn't sure of this.

"You can say no. It is always your prerogative to do so." The elder's face took on that particular look that indicated a challenge was in the making, hazel eyes sharp with his thoughts. "However, I think, if we do this, you'll understand what I mean by saying there is strength in submission. By choosing to place yourself firmly in my hands, you can be free of the pressures... but you have to choose that path."

"I know we discussed it." He remembered the quiet discussions well, but the question still plagued him. Could he submit? Was he strong enough to choose to be the weaker? He looked at the collar, then back at the elder officer's face, seeing all of that calm intent and patience. This man had taught him well in a short time. From matters of soldiering in the field to matters of coping with the war personally, the elder had not steered him wrong yet. 

The elder man reached down to remove the collar from sight, but his companion reached out, catching his hand. In one move that shone with grace, the young American soldier slid to his knees in front of the elder British officer, bowing his head forward to bare the nape of his neck.

"Please, sir."

The elder man gave a truly fond smile, reaching down. "I knew you could, my dear boy," he said softly, before he brought the collar around the American's throat, his fingers steady as he buckled it in place. 

"Now, you are mine," he added, trailing a finger around the edge of the leather on the skin that was still drawn taught with the internal conflict. He knew quite well that the young man kneeling in front of him was fighting several levels of pressure to do so, and that there was little he could do to ease him through the choice. Like everything else in Slade's life, he would have to give in because he chose it. 

He looked up, looking at the strong, steady lines of his elder's face, feeling that light caress almost like the hair-raising stroke of a blade as he swallowed against the leather wrapped around his throat. Collared, like a pet or a possession, and there was still part of him that had been trying to flare up in fury at the _thought_ since the first moment this had been mentioned, but that was mostly the same part of him that hadn't been sure about that first night. He mostly knew better than to pay attention to that piece of him about Wintergreen, now. He took another breath, feeling the leather wrapped strong around his throat, and nodded once, blue eyes clear and fixed on his... lover's face. "Yes, sir." 

The light trace of a touch along the collar changed to a firm hand cupping the back of the younger man's head at the words. "My boy, I want you to show me that you understand I have control. Open my trousers, and do so." His voice was strong, low with seductive tones, but it was the voice of a commander, a man who knew exactly how to control what he turned his attention to. 

He looked up, head tipping a little into that firm grip, and firmly stood on the flare of rebellion that tried to come up under his skin. They did this as often as they had any assurance of privacy long enough to, it was nothing new -- though it was different to have it be quite this sudden a desire. He reached up, hands sliding over the buckle of the service belt, opening it and the button and zip of the pants below. Boxers under the pants, and it wasn't difficult to press those open with his fingertips, slip his hand in to stroke... and he felt the elder man go from half hard to full under his touch.

"My dear boy, you do have such a pleasing touch." The praise came with a long, gentle stroke along the younger man's blond hair. 

He had to smile at the words, at the feel of what his touch could do to the older man, and he shifted his wrist enough to bring the hard length out, hand stroking over him from nearly at the base to the tip. That elicited a soft rumble of pleasure, and another petting caress that strayed down to the collar, toying with the skin between tight military cut and the leather. He shivered a little at the stroke over the nape of his neck, already too well used to that touch not to, and ran the pad of his thumb against the circumcision scar just below his tip, fingers still wrapped around him, eyes dropped to where he could focus on what he was doing, for the moment. 

Wintergreen moaned softly at the caress, keeping quite still, giving his younger lover a chance to choose how to show his willing devotion. His fingers played along the edge of the collar more, a patent reminder of it, even as the touches proved distractingly arousing.

Every time he felt the touch of fingers to the leather around his throat, the young man on his knees shivered a little, or swallowed against its steady pressure -- pressure he couldn't escape from, riding his nerves even more than his throat; and his hand slid again, and again, tongue flicking out to wet his lips when breathing made him realize they'd gone dry. 

The elder man made a soft noise, one hand shifting to rest on his lover's shoulders, other one still moving, still reinforcing that collar's presence. "Such a good touch, my boy. Perhaps, though, you might be ready to show me more?" he invited, still firm in his tone, in the presence he kept. A slide of his finger came along the jaw, tipping the younger man's face up. "Show me how you would use your mouth to please me."

He lifted his head with the touch, feeling the collar shift against his throat with a frisson of heat that ran down his spine before the order made his back tighten for a moment. He nodded in the next second and licked at his lips again. He'd already learned this, learned it well by now... and he moved again, shifting his weight to move closer, opening his mouth enough to wrap his lips around his tip, sucking gently, tongue pressed flat against his lower jaw for just this moment. 

"By the holies, yes, my boy. You do have the trick of it." The elder caressed his lover's ear lightly, finding that point just behind it that always seemed to make him shudder. "Beautiful, you are. So much strength and grace... and you're mine."

He had to shudder for that touch, the stroke of his hand -- only intensified by the words, the sharply possessive tone -- and moved enough to stroke his tongue against the hot, heavy weight against his lower lip. 

The older man remained still, firmly controlling himself against the desire to move. "That's very good, my boy. Very good indeed. You're fast earning a reward at this rate." 

He'd always taken a certain degree of pleasure in being a quick study, in getting something right rapidly, and still the last words made him tense more than relax, much as he tried to force that away in the pleasure of the praise, and he shifted some of his weight to push up enough to to slide his mouth _down_ , breathing before the length in his mouth brushed against the back of his throat. 

The elder man could feel the tension through the muscles of his lover's neck, and merely let out a soft, quiet moan at how good that felt. This was only a beginning; the kind of surrender he wished would not come all at once. He did not control the motion of his lover's head, one hand still resting on the broad shoulder, while the other caressed hair, ear, and neck.

Slade moved again, slow rock of his head back, then forward again, tasting the first bit of salt-bitter fluid with a long, steady brush of his tongue against the tip as he pulled back again, one hand still resting light against the base of his length, other hand dropped on the floor next to his foot. 

The older man watched him, taking in the beauty he always found in studying the young man. The trace of his fingers along the shell of his lover's ear this time held a delicate, tender quality to it, as he felt that strong swell of emotion again. He couldn't admit to it, not here, not in the theater of war they lived in, but he felt it nonetheless. It was what drove him to master the young man, so that passions would not rule him at the wrong moment, and cost him everything he desired. 

"Yes, my beautiful boy. You make me feel very good."

Low, quiet noise at the praise this time as he moved again, trying to press into the hand on his ear even as he dropped his mouth all the way down against his fingers, then slipped his hand away to slide lower, working his tongue against the stiff length caught in his mouth and throat again. 

That elicited an almost strangled sound from Wintergreen's throat. The hand resting on that broad shoulder twitched, then flexed, before moving to the back of the collared neck.

The young man felt the smile try to stretch his already open lips at that sound, and pushed into the strong, firm hand on the back of his neck, noticing the oddness of the touch half-on the leather, half not, but he was slowly falling into the focus on doing this that made it better, more than it could be, and he moved again, and again... 

The older man praised him, caressing and petting, as each slide of tongue and lips took him closer to the edge. He could get lost in this, if he ever got a chance to whisk his lover away from all chances of discovery. For now...his breathing grew harsh, as he neared the end of his control. "My dear boy..."

Curious noise low in his throat as he moved again, hearing that harsh breathing with a flare of hunger of his own. 

"I'm very close, my boy. You've been so good with your mouth, your tongue..." The elder's voice was husky-deep, edged with the nearness of his pleasure. His sac tightened, a twitch in his length as he felt his desires flaring sharply to their peak.

He shuddered with the slide of that voice, and just moved a little quicker with the next slide of his mouth, lips and cheeks wrapped just a bit tighter. At that, the elder man held both of his lover's shoulders for balance, closing his eyes as he felt the shudders of release take him.

He swallowed, over and over again, feeling the collar bite deeper at working his throat, the spill of his lover's pleasure hot and thick and salt-sweet tang that made his close-trimmed nails cut into his palm as he stayed still other than the working of his throat. 

The elder man did not move until he had fully recovered from the tremors, and then it was to cup the back of his lover's neck again. "My dear boy...what you do for me." He exerted a little pressure, indicating by touch alone that the younger man should stand. As he was obeyed, Wintergreen took the moment to tuck himself back away, letting his trousers remain open but hanging loose on his hips for now.

Slade shifted up to his feet, long slow uncurling of his body that did nothing to hide how much he wanted the man in front of him, and his eyes searched his elder's face as he had to make his body be still, knowing full well it was expected. Wintergreen's face betrayed nothing but admiration for the younger one's body, keeping one hand firm on the back of his neck while trailing the other slowly down a well-shaped chest and stomach.

His breath shuddered at that slow drift of his touch. He wanted to move, shift, push into his hand... and he knew he couldn't do anything except be still, wait for the next touch, stroke, word. He _could_ move, but it would cost him more than he wanted to give up -- because this was sliding down along his nerves like the Scotch Wintergreen kept hidden, slow burn of desire that was so strong... He did not wait long, as the older man shifted, bringing their bodies into closer contact, the roving hand sliding further to cup the heavy length of the young man's erection.

"My boy, lean into me. Hold onto me, so I can feel you."

The words were permission for what he wanted so badly, and he shifted his weight into that strong, hard body, arching his back at the hand wrapped around his length through the trousers, sliding his hands to wrap around broad, solid shoulders. 

"I want you to concentrate solely on the feel of my hand on you, my boy. Lose yourself in it." Wintergreen's hand undid the belt, one careful tug at a time, as he met his lover's eyes. Slade listened to the low, accented voice he'd come to be so familiar with, and he couldn't help but shudder at the slide of the belt, sensitive to the sound in a way he'd never really been, drawn tight by the slow tease. As the belt came free, that slow motion continued, unbuttoning the trousers, then unzipping the fly. The entire time, the older man held onto his lover's gaze, watching the way desire painted itself in those eyes.

He couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare at his lover's eyes and wait... and he bit at his lip, wanting so badly to move, to push into the hand just above his skin. 

"You want more." It was a simple statement, but the tone implied for him to have what he wanted, there would be a new thing to do. The older man's hand ghosted over the cloth of the underwear, teasing, tempting, offering...

Slade shuddered, barely managing not to twist under his hand, push into the touch. "Yes, Sir." He'd already been taught the answer to any question like that, and it fell easy from his lips. The elder man nodded approvingly, and more firmly stroked the cloth covered length. 

"Ask me for what you want."

The young man in his arms stiffened in the hold, breath shaking at the stroke of his hand, the strong, steady touch and voice, and his mind raced over the idea, over what to say, what... He'd heard his lover's voice tell him all kinds of things, since they'd started this -- but he was normally quiet. He swallowed, forced his body to _still_ , and his tongue rubbed over his lips as he bit at the inside of them. 

"My dear boy, you can have so much, but you must ask for it," the older man said, voice firm, and his hand going so still.

"I... want you to touch me -- without the shorts between your hand and my skin, Sir... please." His voice shuddered on the last, almost as much as he'd wanted to whimper as his hand stopped. That was enough for his older lover, as the hand moved to gently pull the briefs down enough to free his length. As the elder man wrapped a hand around him again, thumb caressing the tip slowly, the other hand on the back of his neck squeezed in silent praise.

He whimpered quietly at the hot, so-sweet stroke of his hand, muscles in his thighs catching, jumping at it as much as his hands tightened on his shoulders, eyes falling half-shut as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Beautiful, my dear boy, so beautiful in my hold," the elder man whispered against his ear as he leaned in closer, mustache brushing his ear.

Girls, women... they were the beautiful ones, not him, but he'd already leaned that protesting this would just get him called pretty, or worse... best to just accept the words, and he tipped his head into the touch of the hair along his ear a little, throat gone dry enough to make him need to swallow as he shifted his weight, wanting to buck into the touch. 

"Being still for me? Good boy." The older man flicked his tongue out along the delicate part of the ear, before sucking at the lobe. His thumb caressed along the ridge of the head, before his hand moved along the length again, slow and loose for now.

"Y... yes, sir..." he heard his voice gone quiet, hungry, and he shuddered from heel to shoulder at the lick -- and the suck, still trying to keep his body from moving into the stroke of the strong, hard hand on him. 

Wintergreen shifted his hand slightly, fingertips and thumb exploring the texture with each slide down the length and back again -- familiar, now, but still so worth enjoying all of the differences here. 

He shuddered under that hand, shaking with how good that felt and with the need to move that he couldn't let himself give in to, not with the hand on his neck and the _collar_ around his throat. His lover purred at him, a low sound of pure pleasure in seeing him obey. The tempo of his hand increased little by little, a flick of his wrist punctuating the slides. 

The younger man bit the cry he wanted to give back into another quiet little whimper, hands flexing on his shoulders, swallowing hard again, teeth sinking into his lip over the older impressions at every quicker slide of his hand, every shift of his wrist. 

"Growing close, aren't you, my boy?" the elder man asked in his ear, rubbing his thumb along the base, while caressing a line at the collar with his other hand.

"Yes, suh..." he heard his voice shake on the last word, his arms tight around his shoulders, hands clinging to him. That slide into the more provincial accent made the older man shudder against his lover, and he had to smile.

"Oh my boy, the way you make me feel when you sound like that." His finger traced the back of his lover's neck, directly over the spine at the line of the collar. "You'll have to ask again, if you want to finish, my boy."

The desire to look up into his eyes in shock at the words warred with the way that touch made him want to drop his head and push up into the touch... He gave in to the second urge, biting back the whimpers of need and want. He'd pleaded for this before, he knew that -- but the idea of doing it because he had to... 

The stroking hand slowed, cupping down around the younger man's sac, massaging gently. "So tight, so heavy...how much you must want me to finish you, my boy," the older man murmured in his ear.

"Ah... yes, Suh... P--please, Suh..." It felt like the plea was being torn out of his throat, but he needed, so badly.... 

It was almost what the elder man wanted, but he wanted to be sure his younger lover was fully aware of his submission, that nothing would happen unless he asked. "Please what?"

He felt the shakes run through his veins, heat pulsing all down through him at the demand, the stroke of his hand, at the way his lover meant to make him give him this, as well.. "...Ah... please... let me, Suh." 

The older man slid his hand back into stroking his lover's length. "My boy... now." He made it a firm command just as his wrist twisted slightly in the stroking.

He didn't know if it was the order or the change in the touch, but he felt himself break, clinging with his arms, not just his hands, his head falling against one strong shoulder as his body bucked with the searing blaze of heat down his veins. 

"Yes, my boy, that's it... so good, feeling you shudder," the older man breathed, working his hand just enough to be certain his lover was fully spent. The whole time, he kept his other palm cupped around the younger man's neck, lips turning to kiss his sweat-dampened hair.

The strokes of his hand through the shakes after made him twist a little before he could force himself to hold still, panting for breath it felt like he just couldn't catch before he pressed into the kiss, just a little... and was shifted enough to receive a more proper, thorough kiss. 

He opened his mouth willingly to that, kissing him back, still caught in the last of the aftermath. As the kiss lingered, the older man made a pleased sound, indicating how well his lover had performed his role. When he broke the kiss, he took his handkerchief to begin the cleanup task, a soft smile on his lips.

"I knew you were strong enough, my boy."


End file.
